


in your head they're still fighting

by captainRochol



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, Cliche Zombie Apocalypse AU, Gore, Humanstuck, M/M, Past Character Death, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:57:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainRochol/pseuds/captainRochol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>with their tanks and their bombs<br/>and their bombs and their guns<br/>in your head, in your head, they are dying</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hoo hoo i finally decided to prove i can write pairings other than karezi and i wrote this hallelujah
> 
> im writing this on top of scratch island, so dont think im abandoning that :33 enjoy my friends

_Another head hangs lowly,  
Child is slowly taken.   
And the violence caused such silence,   
Who are we mistaken? _ Zombie\-- The Cranberries

Your name is Dave Strider, and life sucks. 

_Life totally sucks,_ you think bitterly as you pump a round of bullets into the animated corpse in front of you. It drops dead. Or dead-er, you guess. 

You kneel by the body, rifling through the pockets. Anything this guy could be carrying on him could help. Anything. 

Except for his Driver's License, which is the only thing you can find in his pockets. You swear under your breath and stand, dropping the useless piece of plastic. 

You reload your gun as you walk, wiping a smear of blood off your cheek. You slowly climb back into your dented Mazda CX-5 after thoroughly checking for zombies. 

You shove the keys in and crank the car, scowling at the dashboard. _Zombies_. You had resolutely refused to call them that at first, despite the fact that John had, even though it was jokingly at first. 

Your stomach twists painfully as you think about John, as you think about cakes and pranks and screaming and _so much blood_ and him _begging you to kill him_ \--- 

You slam on the breaks, kicking open the door and almost falling out of the car, vomiting onto the asphalt. You dry heave for a moment before regaining your composure, and you slowly wipe your mouth on your sleeve before climbing back into the car. 

You start up the SUV again, shaking slightly. Your breath tastes like vomit and you smell like sweat and the metallic tang of blood and death. You squint behind your aviators, reading a ramshackle cardboard duct taped to a stop sign. 

**SAFE ZONE: 5 MILES**

Your eyes widen slightly and you slam on the gas, wanting to get to the safe zone and reload. You're running low on food and ammunition, and you should probably get your injuries treated. John used to take care of your wounds, but---

No. You're not going to think about John. You grit your teeth and narrow your eyes, ignoring the way the tears stungs. 

You've lost so many people; your brother Dirk was torn apart by zombies, and his boyfriend Jake soon followed. Rose sacrificing herself for Kanaya, the latter going insane and jumping off a cliff... You haven't even heard a word from Jade since this whole thing began. 

But John's death gets you the worst. You miss him with every fiber of your being, and you hate how your throat closes and your stomach clenches and your eyes burn when you think of him. 

You make a sharp left turn into the safe zone, taking a shaky deep breath. You hunch over the steering the while, taking a moment to collect yourself before getting out of the car. You make sure you grab the keys; you know they'll get stolen if you leave them. Slowly, you enter the building. It looks like a large gymnasium, and you exhale through your nose. 

Gymnasium like buildings are usually just medical zones, not anywhere to go for permanent or even temporary shelter if you're uninjured.

Sure enough, when you get to the doors leading out of the lobby, you enter a large gym. There are cots and small mattresses lining the floor, and makeshift nurses and doctors run from patient to patient, trying their hardest to heal them. 

The sight before you reminds me of the scene from _Gone with the Wind_ where the man got his leg amputated. Or was it his arm? You can only vaguely remember because Rose forced you to watch it with you. 

Your throat closes up slightly again, and so you're startled when a plump ginger nurse approaches you, looking frazzled. 

"Can I help you?" she asks wearily, and you can see how she's hoping you'll say no. The crooked nametag sticker on her bosom reads Aradia in maroon letters. 

"Um. No. I was just..." you take a deep breath. "Do you have any food?"

"None that we can spare," she replies, wiping her bloody hands on the front of her kitchen apron. She takes a moment to focus on that, then returns her gaze to you. 

"You're going to have to leave now," she says briskly, yet tiredly, then walks off to tend to another suffering woman. You stare after her for a moment before turning on your heel and leaving, frowning as disappointment fills you. 

You climb into the driver's seat of your SUV, adjusting the rearview mirror. You back out of the parking spot and sigh, starting to drive out of the parking lot. You pull onto the interstate, turning on the radio to see if anything's broadcasting. You fiddle with the dial for a few minutes as you drive. You hear only static, and you're about to give up when you hear a voice cut through. 

"ssssssssss---- safe zone---- sssssssssssssss---- west of---- ssssssssssssssss---- ssssss----"

You listen carefully, focusing chiefly on the faint sound of the voice. 

"----ssssssssssss---- Tampa Bay---- sssssssss---"

Tampa Bay. All the way down in Florida. You swear, banging your hand down on the dashboard. You're barely at the edge of Texas, and you have to drive all the way to fucking Tampa Bay?

Or, you suppose, you don't _have_ to... But safe zones hold your greatest chance at survival. And where there are safe zones, there are humans. 

So you take a crumpled map out of the glove compartment and turn onto an interstate. Time to go to Florida. 

-*-

After driving all day and most of the night, you park in Coushatta, Louisiana, what used to be a small little town. As far as you can tell, there's nobody that lives there anymore. The town's been completely ravaged by the plague and looters. It's a ghost town now; or, more appropriately, a zombie town. 

You chuckle at your bad joke as you batten down the hatches for the night. You draw up the window screens, lock all the doors, and grab your gun. You settle down in the backseat, pulling a heavy blue quilt over your head. If you concentrate, you can smell tobacco and cake powder, silly putty and play-doh and that delicious aerosol can scent. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the familiar, smoothing smell. You clutch the blanket around you, shivering slightly. You curl into a tiny ball, willing yourself not to cry. 

_Striders don't cry,_ you think bravely. Especially not over boys. 

-*- 

You can only sleep a few hours before you wake, sun shining in through the screens of the car. You sit up slowly, your shades falling off your face and into your lap. You put them back on slowly, before stretching and climbing into the front seat. 

You roll down the screens, glancing around before deciding to exit the car. You take a gun just in case; while zombie's avoid the sunlight, it doesn't hurt them. 

You slide out of the car and shut the door, locking it behind you. You hold the gun tightly, ducking into a small shop. You always need new supplies. 

The metal shelves are completely empty. You scowl at them, kicking one for good measure then swearing angrily. You check behind the counter next, for anything. A gun, a bag of chips, even a magazine would be useful. Nothing. 

You make your way to the door labelled Employees Only, and push it open. Cardboard boxes litter the floor, but they're all empty. You want to scream, but instead kick the boxes angrily. You pick one up, ripping it to bits. 

After demolishing a good third of the helpless boxes, you exit the storage room and make your way out to the car again. You look around, hoping to find another store that doesn't look completely destroyed. As usual, your luck sucks. 

You climb back into the car, kicking a dented, empty tin can as you do so. Worthless garbage. You back out of the parking spot, starting to drive down the street, all the while looking for a shop that doesn't have the windows broken or the door bashed into splinters. 

You see nothing of the sort and sigh, not even having enough to be angry. Your stomach grumbles forlornly in reply, and you check the center console for a little can of vienna sausages. You take out your last one, and open it up as you drive. You slowly eat the sausages of questionable meats, then drain the salty broth. That should tide you over a few hours. 

You pass a sign reading You Are Now Leaving Coushatta, and you step on the gas. Maybe, if your luck will finally cut you a break, you'll get out of Louisiana before nightfall. Because if you don't... you'll probably be in trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for my sucky spanishhh

_A zombie apocalypse isn't the most jovial situation._ \--Danai Gurira

-*-

You don't get out of Louisiana by nightfall. In fact, you're nowhere near the border. 

You stop at a motel that's between towns, deciding to sleep in the car here. Sighing, you climb wearily into the back seat of the car. You cover yourself with the blanket and close your eyes, slowly falling asleep. 

...Only to be awakened by screaming. You sit up immediately, flailing a bit, and scramble out of the car on instinct, a gun in hand. The screaming is coming from within the motel, and the screamer sounds male. 

He sounds panicked, terrified, distraught. You can guess what's happening. 

_Leave him,_ you think, clenching your teeth, but the screams grow more panicky, and against your better judgement, you run into the hotel. 

You run up the stairs, trying to pinpoint the noise. You vaguely realize that by the time you find the screamer, it'll be too late, but your legs keep moving anyway. He might have supplies. 

The noise is still ringing strong as you crash through apartment 2B, and run into the bedroom. 

You don't take any time to study the screeching boy standing on the bed, and instead you start shooting, pumping the tall zombie approaching him until he falls dead. The boy slowly stops screaming, eyes wide. You turn to face him. 

He's short, and skinny as a rail. His skin is deeply tanned, and he has a mop of messy, tousled black hair. There's blood flecking his face, and his hands are covered in it. And he looks terrified. Then angry. 

"What the fuck?!" he yells, hopping off the bed and walking over to you. His eyes are filling with tears. 

"That was my best friend!" You turn and look at the corpse, a tall, lanky man with juggalo makeup and curly hair. You frown, pursing your lips. 

"He was going to kill you. You're welcome," you say, pushing your gun into it's holster. 

"Well maybe I wanted to die, shitstain," he barks, and you can tell that at least some part of him truly did. 

"...then you shouldn't've screamed," you say simply, narrowing your eyes behind your shades. He scowls at you, then deflates a bit. He looks reluctant, angrily so, and he seems to be in physical pain when he speaks again. 

"...hey. Uh. This causes me the pain of a million suns to ask, but... can I hitch a ride?" he asks. You raise your brows. 

"I mean--- just to the border. I don't need any food or water or anything, just a ride," he says, looking like it really, truly hurts him to ask for help. You smirk. 

"Alright, fine. C'mon," you say, gesturing to the door and starting to leave the room. He hastily grabs a duffle bag and follows you, seeming to struggle slightly under the weight. 

You pop the trunk when you get down to the car, and help him load his bag in. 

"So, what the fuck's your name?" he asks, frowning as he climbs into the passenger's seat. 

"Dave," you reply simply, and he nods slowly. "You?"

"Karkat."

-*-

Within minutes of getting into the car, Karkat falls asleep, worn out from screaming. This gives you some time alone with your thoughts. 

Why did you have to agree to give this guy a ride? He's probably infected by zombies or something. You frown as he stirs in his sleep, mumbling under his breath. 

"...rez..." he mumbles, tossing a bit. You raise your brows, glancing at him out of the corner of your eyes. He seems to be having a nightmare, judging from the way he's thrashing around. Sweat beads on his skin, and he starts talking in what you assume is Spanish. 

"No... Rez... Corre! Ejecutas, por favor--- que sales de aquí!" he gasps, and he's causing such a distraction that you have to shake him awake. He sits up, gasping, sweat running down his forehead. He's shaking badly, and hurriedly scrubs his eyes. 

"Are you okay?" you ask quietly, keeping your eyes on the road. He shifts uneasily, staring outside the passenger's seat window. 

"...yeah, I'm fine," he mutters, messing with a tarnished silver band on his ring finger. You notice it and exhale slowly. 

"Are you... married?" you ask, and he stiffens before shaking his head. 

"No. It's just a promise ring," he says quietly, and he lets out a quiet sniffle. You pretend not to notice as he starts to cry. 

-*-

You park as the sun starts to go down a day later, yawning slightly. You poke Karkat's shoulder, and he jerks slightly, half-asleep. 

"Wha---?" he squints, turning to face you. 

"We have to stop and sleep for the night. Get into the back. There's a blanket," you say, rolling up the window screens. He appears confused. 

"What are you going to do?" he asks, unbuckling and heading for the back. 

"Keep watch," you reply, and he nods, then stops. 

"When are we getting to the border?"

"If nothing goes wrong, tomorrow," you say, and he nods again befote lying in the backseat. He covers himself the quilt, closing his eyes. 

It's completely silent as he falls asleep, and you stare out of the sunroof, up at the stars. You study them silently, and from where you are, you can see Gemini. The air is stuffy and warm within the car, so you roll down a window just a crack. 

Cooler night air fills the car, and you can hear the hum of cicadias around you. You slowly close your eyes.

-*-

You're woken up by Karkat crying out. You jolt awake, looking back to him, panicked, half-expecting to see a zombie biting into him. 

Instead he's writhing on the backseat, tangled up in the quilt. He's sobbing and screaming, his legs jerking frantically. 

"Terezi---- Terezi----!" he sobs, clutching the blanket. You reach over, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. It takes a few seconds to wake him, but when he wakes up he cries out loudly and clutches your arm, tears streaming down his face. Your eyes widen and you just let him hold your arm. 

"Hey... it's alright," you say awkwardly, patting his head with your free hand. He sniffles, hurriedly letting go of your arm and scrubbing at his eyes. 

"Sorry," he says gruffly, his eyes red and puffy. You just nod slowly. 

"It's fine. Who..." you hesitate, glancing at him. He stiffens a bit. 

"Who's Te---" You're cut off by an inhuman scream from outside the vehicle. Your eyes widen, and you shove a gun into his hands before grabbing one from the center console. You check out of the window, to see if you're able to drive away. 

_Shit._ They're everywhere. They're practically surrounding the entire SUV, a gap in the sea of zombies off to the left.

"Come on!" you yell loudly, grabbing your backpack from the hatch and opening the side door. You run out, and it takes Karkat a minute before he follows you. 

He runs alongside you, helping you to shoot at the undead as you run. You run as fast as you can, getting into some thick woods. Karkat follows close behind, panting heavily. You glance behind you, seeing zombies overtake your SUV. You swear angrily under your breath, and only stop running when you can't see the car anymore. Karkat stops as well, wiping his sweaty bangs out of his eyes. 

"...what do we do now?"

You sigh. "I don't know." And you don't. You're stuck out in the woods with a tiny Hispanic boy, and you need to get to Florida. Before they close the safe zone.


	3. Chapter 3

"Why the fuck did those zombies have to attack?" Karkat gripes as you both trek through the forest, "And why can't we go back and get the car?" You grind your teeth slightly. 

"Because they probably dismantled the car. And they attacked because they could smell us," you reply bitterly, frowning. 

"They could _smell_ us?!" Karkat asks, looking surprised and horrified. You nod. 

"They're really good at smelling humans... especially when we're in groups. Groups are more likely to get attacked," you mutter, and you try to block out the flashbacks of you and John getting attacked, John getting grabbed by zombies who start to rip his flesh off, John begging you to kill him, you grabbing the gun and---

"Oh," he whispers, looking disturbed. You watch him for a minute, and only say something when he's about to walk into a tree. 

"Hey," you say loudly, and he jolts, stumbling. "You almost ran into the tree."

"Oh." He stares at the tree, eyes wide. "I see."

"Watch where you're going," you mutter, frowning slightly and he nods. 

The two of you travel in silence for a while, until the sun is hanging in the sky. Sweat beads on your brow and you pause every once in a while to wipe it. You surmise it's around one in the afternoon when the silence is suddenly broken by a loud growl. 

"Shit," you hiss, eyes widening. You unholster your gun as you think _zombies._ Instead of drawing his weapon, though, Karkat turns bright red. The growl resounds through the forest again, and you glance around. 

"Get out your weapon, man," you hiss to him, "There's a fucking zombie somewhere around here." 

He shakes his head frantically, blushing heavily. 

"No, that's... that's just my stomach," he says quietly, and you stare at him. Then you laugh. Loudly. He turns a darker shade of red, and scowls at you. 

"It's not funny, asshole," he says hotly, angrily. "I haven't eaten in days!" That makes you quiet down a bit, and you stare at him. _Days?_

"Days?"

"Yeah. Days, you stupid fucker. As in, I haven't eaten since Thursday!" he snaps. 

Thursday? You count the days in your head. It's Wednesday now, so---

"Holy shit. How have you not died yet?" He seethes at you, grey eyes flashing angrily. 

"Well, I mean, I've eaten like, whatever handful of berries I can find," he says hotly, "But nothing that's _real_ sustanance." You stop walking then, setting your pack down and unzipping the front pocket. He frowns stopping as well, and he looks a bit affronted when you draw out a pack of saltines. 

"Oh, fuck no," he snaps, starting to walk again. "I don't need your pity, and I sure as _fuck_ don't need your charity." You follow him, slinging your pack onto your back and holding the crackers. 

"This isn't up for debate, Kitkat. I'm not going to have you drop dead on me." His eyebrows raise in suspicion. 

"The only thing that attracts zombies faster than a live body is a dead body," you clarify hastily, and he scowls. 

"Fine," he huffs, snatching the crackers out of your hand. You can see how badly he wants to rip into the package, but he restrains himself and forces himself to civily remove a cracker and how he eats it as slowly as he can. You stop looking at him after a minute, but you can see from your peripherals that he tears into the packages and devours the crackers. 

Your lips quirk up into a faint grin. 

-*-

When the sun starts to set you stop. Karkat walks a few more paces before realizing you stopped and turning around to face you. 

"Why'd you stop?" he asks. 

"We're going to set up camp," you reply calmly, setting your pack down. 

"Already?" he iquires, and you nod. 

"If we wait until it's dark, we'd be more vulnerable," you answer, and take out a box of matches. "Now make yourself useful and find some firewood." He scowls, sets his pack down, and starts to walk off. 

When you can't hear his footsteps any longer, you walk over to his pack. It's completely creepy, and if Rose was still alive she'd chastise you until you died, but you've beem curious about this little Latino's pack since you crossed paths. Mostly, though, you've been curious about who this Terezi person is, and his pack probably holds an answer. 

You kneel down and unzip the main pocket, rifling around idly. Mostly clothes, two guns, and empty food wrappers. You zip it up again, then open one of the two side pocket. Inside is only a few things; two photographs, a ring, and a stuffed dragon. You raise your eyebrows. You hit the Karkat's-Past Jackpot. 

You look at the photos first. The first one has Karkat, who looks a few years younger than he does now, and a slightly plump girl with auburn hair. Her bangs are bright red and her eyes are clouded over, and she's grinning as she kisses Karkat's cheek. He's smiling faintly and blushing, looking extremely happy. 

The second one looks younger, and it's a solo of the girl. It's a portrait shot, and you can tell she's very pretty. She's giving the camera a shit-eating grin, and her thin brows are raised, and just from looking at her pale, milky green eyes you can tell she's blind. 

You study the photos for a few minutes before looking at the ring. It's flecked with blood, but other than that, the silver ring it in good conditions. Small fake rubies are set into the band, none of them missing. You conclude that this was probably the girl's ring. 

You look at the dragon last. It seems very out of place with everything else. The dragon is white with glossy red button eyes, and it's in perfect condition. No blood splatters or anything.

" _What the fuck are you doing?!_ " Karkat screeches as he returns to the clearing, arms full of thick branches. He drops them and runs over, snatching the objects out of your hands hastily. He hurriedly but tenderly sets the objects in his bag, then quickly zips up the zipper. 

"What the _fuck_ were you doing?!" he shouts, and you ignore the way his voice cracks like he's about to cry. 

"I---"

"No, no---" he turns away quickly, scrubbing at his eyes angrily. "I don't want to hear it. I don't want to know." He hiccups quietly, and you busy yourself with building up a fire. You let him cry. 

Ten minutes later, after rolling up two logs by the fire, you call to him. The sun has set by now, and you're opening two cans of beenie weenies. 

"Hey. Karkat. Dinner's served," you say loudly, glancing at where he's lying down in a makeshift nest of pine needles and oak leaves. He stirs slightly, the foliage rustling beneath him, then he sits up. He stands, crossing over to you and taking a can from you. 

"Thanks," he mutters, sitting heavily on the other log and picking at the beans and franks with the plastic fork you handed him. You nod, digging into your own beenie weenies. 

You both eat in relative silence. The only sound is the crackling of the fire. The forest is oddly silent besides that; no crickets chirp, no cicadias hum, no frogs croak. It's completely, eerily silent. Until Karkat breaks the silence. 

"...I forgive you," he says heavily, like it's paining him to say this. You look at him and he looks away, flushing a bit. 

"I'm not saying it's okay what you did... because it's not. It wasn't. You shouldn't rifle through people's things like a jackass," he says slowly. He pauses. 

"But I do forgive you." You nod slowly. 

"Thanks," you find yourself saying, and even though Dirk would've chastised you for it, you tack on a sorry as well.

The silence once again swells between you, heavy and uncomfortable, until you ask the question that's been floating around in your head and dancing on your tongue since you picked this angry little boy up. 

"Who's Terezi?"

He stiffens immediately, his whole body rigid. His face pulls into one of despair and an attempt at carelessness; you would know. You've made that face many times before. He's silent for a minute, and you're thinking of repeating the question when he says something. 

"Who's John?"

Now it's your turn to freeze up. Tears bite at the corners of your eyes, and you wonder how he knows that name. You're fairly certain you've never said it around him... ever. 

"You write his name," Karkat says quietly, facing the fire. "Everywhere." He points to the soft earth between your feet. You look down, and _shit_ he's right; "John" is written messily on the ground, and there's soil on your index finger's tip so you know it had to be you. 

And then you suddenly know that his name is written in the dust on your dashboard back in your car, and carved into the wood of the bathroom stall doors in places you looted, and smeared on windows with grimy fingertips. 

You cough, once, and blink rapidly behind your shades to get rid of your tears.

"I asked you first," you say quietly, and he gives you a look. Then he exhales quietly, runs a hand through his dark hair, and lays down on the log. 

"That's a story for another time," he says simply, closing his eyes. You know the conversation's over, at least for tonight, and you let him get away with it, and you let him sleep. 

Later, in the wee hours of the morning, you'll wake him and he'll watch the endless dark forest while you sleep fitfully, but now you just let him doze, Terezi's name on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so you idk why that same end note keeps popping up at the ed??? its hella annoying jfc but yeah man i still need a beta reader B33 pls apply i want oneee


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait and short chapter ;m;

"Rise and shine, asshole!" you say cheerfully, nudging Karkat off the log. He wakes, letting out a yelp as he topples to the ground. 

"What the fuck was that for?!" he shrieks, standing up quickly. 

"It's time to get going," you say calmly, slinging your pack onto your back. You stamp out the fire, and hand him his bag before starting to walk. He splutters slightly, then follows you after a minute. 

You both trek through the forest in relative silence for a while. You polish your gun with a square of cloth as you walk, and he watches you. 

"So," you say, as you clean the barrel. "Who's Terezi?" He tenses slightly, glaring at his feet. 

"...who _was_ Terezi?" you amend quietly, and he glares at you, more sadness in the look than venom. 

"...Terezi was the love of my life," he whispered quietly. He twists the ring on his finger slightly. There's a pained look on his face, and your insides clench uncomfortably. 

"What happened?" you ask, unsure if you really want to know. There's a hollow look on his face now, and you're about to say nevermind when he speaks.

"We were at my house. We were scared of the zombies, but... we had each other. So we thought we'd be okay," he whispers. "It was my turn to keep watch but I was so tired... I fell asleep and I only woke up when she started screaming." Your stomach twists and you think you're about to vomit as he speaks. You don't want him to continue but you can't seem to get the words out. 

"She was always strong and smart, but her sight wasn't the best and she couldn't locate them before they bit her---" he trips over the words slightly here, "And fuck--- I shot them, I emptied my entire magazine into them, but it was too late, she was already changing---" He's starting to cry now, gasping sobs as he clenches his fists. 

"And she told me to kill her---- But--- I couldn't--- Until she tried to attack _me_ \---" he let out a rough, angry sob, falling to his knees. You stop walking immediately, crouching by him. 

You wrap your arms around him and just let him cry. You don't tell him it's okay because you know it's not, but you stroke his thick, dark hair and rub his back and maybe make him feel just a little bit better. 

-*-

You both decide to just camp out here for the rest of the day and night. 

He's too exhausted to walk any further, and you understand; it takes a lot out of you to explain how you killed the person you loved. 

You offer to keep watch and he nods, immediately falling asleep on the soft foliage. 

You feel a bit sick from what he told you earlier; it brings back unpleasent, unwanted memories of before the apocalypse. You bury your face in your hands, trying not to give into emotion. 

"You're tough," you say aloud, and though nobody answers, you wish someone would whisper _you don't have to be_. 

-*-

Karkat seems better the next morning. He's well-rested, and the good long nap served him well. 

You both start walking through the forest after packing up. 

"How long do you think it'll take to get there?" he asks. 

"Maybe a day or two, unless we can find a car," you reply. He nods, considering this. 

"Do you think we could find a car?" he asks, and you scoff. 

"Probably not," you say bluntly, "Because we're taking all of the forest paths." He nods slowly, continuing to walk. 

You two walk in silence for most of the day, stopping once or twice to eat small meals. It's during lunch when he finally says something again. 

"Tell me about John." You tense up, staring at the vienna sausage in your hand. 

Then you take a deep breath, and tell him about the only person you ever loved.


	5. AUTHORS NOTE WOOOOAAHHHH

hey guys!! so

this story is now on an "informal hiatus" :0

im sorry but

blajfdjdkekn im kinda not feeling it anymore?? yeah

but im going to finish it!! i promise

chapter updates will be pretty slow though so

keep that in mind uou

thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> also i need a beta reader bc i dont want to overload my current one with two stories at once
> 
> if youre interested inquire within i need you to have written stuff and have it posted on ao3 tho :33


End file.
